


monster

by euriele



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1962903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euriele/pseuds/euriele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Reds and Blues see Felix for who he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	monster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalgalen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalgalen/gifts).



> kind of a look into a psycho felix really

You forgot about the camera logs in Tucker’s armour. You forgot that they run 24/7 when Tucker’s in armour. You didn’t know he’d transmit the video of your betrayal to the New Republic.

But you’re a quick thinker, Felix. And you’ve had fail safes in place for weeks. One thing about your line of work: you must always have a back-up plan. And you have about ten back-up plans, and back-up plans to the back-up plans. You’ve been waiting for something like this to happen for weeks now.

So when you walk back into camp to find guns pointed at you from all angles, you can only smile.

There are soldiers lining the walkways and the barracks; a squad consisting of the lieutenants stands before you. Kimball stands in the middle of the line, shoulders squared and rifle in hand as always. You can feel the smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth; can feel your fingers twitching. You’re ready for this fight.

“Secret’s out, huh?” you say, looking right at Kimball.

“Hands in the air, Felix,” she says, following suit from her lieutenants and pointing the barrel of her gun at your head.

“That’s not very friendly.”

“Hands. In the air. _Now.”_

You raise your hands upwards. Laugh as you do.

“Why are you laughing?” Kimball growls.

“Because you think you’ve got me.” You give another sharp laugh. Keep your hands in the air as you throw your head back and laugh. You can see the soldiers looking sideways at each other, can feel the confusion from where you’re stood. “You actually think you’ve trapped me here. I thought you were smarter than that, Kimball.”

She shoves the barrel of his rifle against your visor. “Shut up, Felix.”

You eye the barrel, feel your smile drop. “I see how it is.”

She notices the obvious change in your voice, because she tenses up. She doesn’t, however, see your hand going to the little detonator you built into your helmet when you set up your fail safe. She doesn’t see it until you press the button, until the little light on it flashes green and the beeping starts. The C4s you planted days before light up; hundreds of little green lights that hide beneath the walkways or under the pavements, directly beneath the boots of soldiers. You planted hundreds of them, enough to take out the whole base.

You grin. “Let’s dance.”

They explode.

You move.

Slam your fist into Carolina’s head. The bullet whizzes past your ear a second later. Pull the rifle from her hands, bring your foot into her knee and feel it crunch beneath you. Her scream is satisfying.

The walkways collapse. The barracks explode. You duck down; cover your head as the debris flies out. You can see the explosions, can feel the heat of them and the vibrations through the ground. There are explosions of blood and body parts, kids who had the unfortunate luck of standing near a bomb flying through the air, missing limbs already. The sounds of groaning metal fill your eyes. The walkways snap, start falling and crush the survivors stood beneath them.

There’s a lot of screaming, a lot of dust. You can see the kids falling, can see the detached limbs and blood already. Someone crawls from the rubble of barracks with one arm, the other arm and both legs shorn off at the joints. You see the bodies of others settling, the blood already splattered in patterns up the destroyed walls and running along the sloping ground in rivers.

There’s a smile on your face.

Someone stumbles into your path, someone with blue accents on their armour. Smith, you realise. He’s coughing, stumbling and without a weapon. Perfect. Throw yourself at him, push the barrel of the gun up under his chin. Pull the trigger three times and see the explosion of blood through the top of his helmet. You get some drops on your visor.

A scream behind you. Spin, pull your machete out. Embed it in Bitters’ chest. Listen to him gargle and choke on his own blood before you let his body fall. Brace a boot against his shoulder and yank the machete out. Watch the blood on the end of the blade drip, watch it splatter against the orange highlights of Bitters’ armour.

Ganoosh and Greene are next. They charge at you. You grin. It’s funny how quickly they go down. Ganoosh reaches you first, stumbles when you dunk beneath his swing and gets the machete in his spine for his trouble. Greene screams, shoots at you. Dodge the bullets, kick the weapon from his hands and knock him down. Grab the left side of jaw with one hand and the back of his helmet with the other and snap his neck.

Katie’s on the ground. Helmet’s dented on the left side. She pulls it off, coughs. You can see the blood running down her face into her eyes. She barely even looks up when you approach her, only glances upward at the last second when she hears the safety of your pistol click. You get to watch her dark brown eyes widen with fear before you pull the trigger.

 _Two left,_ you think.

Palomo’s the closest. You barely even bother. His helmet’s off too, dark skin stained with dust and blood. He coughs weakly, tries to raise an arm to stop you but you bring your foot down on his throat and crush his spine. Blood comes surging up his throat and bursts out of his mouth, staining your boots. You’re grinning again.

And then it’s just Kimball.

She’s still on the ground, face down and groaning. Her leg’s twisted at an awful angle, dragging behind her as she tries to crawl away. She scrambles – panics, even – when she sees you coming. But there’s little to no resistance when you grab the front of her helmet, when you expose her throat and plunge your knife into her neck.

“NO!”

Smile again. Look up from the gargling Kimball and the blood spurting from her neck over your hand. See the Captains, their friends, the woman in aqua armour with her little A.I. friend, standing before you, watching in shock as you twist your knife deeper into Kimball’s neck.

“Hey guys,” you say with a laugh. Kimball chokes again. There’s a splattering sound from inside her helmet. “Sorry you had to miss most of the show. But you did make the grand finale.”

You tighten your grip on the knife. Pull it sideways. Open her throat from ear to ear and let her body fall when you yank the knife out. Stagger backwards and take a few deep breaths. Your hands are covered in her blood. You hear her gargle once, hear her finally fall silent. Your smile gets wider.

“What the hell?” Epsilon mutters, looking from the mutilated bodies in the remains of the buildings to the bodies of the Lieutenants. You draw yourself up to your full height, tug off your helmet and toss it aside. There’s sweat beading on your forehead. Go to wipe your face, realise a second too late that your hands are soaked in blood.

“Well, that completes the crazy mad man look,” you say with a grin, staring at the blood on his hands.

“You killed them,” Tucker gasps out. You notice he’s looking at Palomo’s prone form, at the blood on the kid’s chin and cheeks.

“Duh,” you say, running a hand through your hair. Who cares if you’re coating yourself in blood at this point? “You do realise that our plan is to wipe out everyone on this planet? Remember that? I made a whole monologue about it.”

“They were just kids,” Carolina says. You can see her fists clenching down by her side. “Innocent kids who didn’t deserve to die.”

“Cry me a fucking river,” you growl. Wipe your knife against the Kevlar under suit; smear the blood onto the suit. “They were just soldiers. Soldiers die.”

“Not like this.”

“Go bitch about it to someone who cares.”

“Monster.” It’s Tucker this time. His rifle is aimed at your unprotected forehead. You smile.

“You wouldn’t have the guts –“

**Author's Note:**

> inspired/requested by kalgalen (kalmoony on tumblr)


End file.
